Feted to Die: An Inspector Constable Murder Mystery (22 page)

“Laura, darling? Is that true?” Lady Lawdown seemed taken aback at the revelation. “But why on earth would Horace do that?”

“I’m sure the inspector is about to tell us, Mummy,” said Laura wearily.

“The only thing we are certain of,” continued Constable, “is that Horace Cope was overheard to mention the possibility that Miss Biding might use the flat for ‘business’.”

“What, staying in London when you went up to do modelling shoots, is that it, darling? Well, inspector, what’s wrong with that?”

“Not a thing, my lady, if that is in fact what was proposed. Of course, there are other interpretations of the word ‘business’. Are there not, Miss Biding? And based on a newspaper cutting which we found in the dead man’s wallet, which mentioned the personal services of a certain lady called ‘L’, we could easily draw conclusions as to what ‘business’ Miss Biding was engaged in.”

Laura glared defiantly at the inspector. “You have not a shred of proof of any of this wild tale,” she declared. “If you dare to repeat any of this publicly, I will take you to court. Robin …?” She looked to Robin Allday for confirmation.

“That may not be advisable, Miss Biding,” replied Constable. “You see, there is a file of photographs which we have discovered on Mr. Cope’s computer which may be of interest to us. Of course, it may not be relevant, but we shan’t know that until we get past the security and open it up. Which we shall be doing if we think we need to.”

Laura subsided. She sounded resigned. “I don’t think you need trouble to do that, inspector. But I’ve done nothing illegal, and I resent this dragging out of my private life in front of everyone. It has nothing whatever to do with you.”

“Ah, but it has, Miss Biding. Because I spoke of secrets, and here is one which I’m sure some people would go to almost any lengths to preserve. To protect their reputation. To protect their name, their family. It’s very much a secret worth killing for.” He turned to Laura’s mother. “Is it not, your ladyship?”

Sandra Lawdown, who had been gazing at her daughter in horrified silence, rallied. “Are you trying to imply, inspector, that I knew all about this … whatever it is you believe Laura has done … and that I killed Horace in order to protect the family name? Is that seriously what you are suggesting?”

“I’m afraid it’s rather more complicated than that, my lady,” said Constable. “No, I don’t see that you would have killed Horace Cope for your daughter’s sake. But for all that, you were none too fond of him yourself, if the truth were told.” And as Sandra Lawdown seemed about to protest, “No, please don’t try to deny it. We’ve heard of one or two conversations between you which were not entirely friendly. And as lady of the manor and a Justice of the Peace, who knows, perhaps you even thought he was a little beneath you. And I’m sorry to have to tell you that behind your back, Mr. Cope was sometimes less than complimentary about you. In fact, the late Miss Cook overheard Mr. Cope saying that you were no lady. So how would you respond to that?”

Lady Lawdown remained looking straight ahead, lips firmly pressed together. Under the flawless make-up, her face seemed suddenly haggard.

“I mentioned some of the interesting items we discovered at Mr. Cope’s cottage,” continued Constable. “One of them was a letter from the Family Records Office which referred to a marriage certificate between a Mr. Rex Biding and a Miss Alexandra Thyme. The certificate itself wasn’t there – no doubt it’s safely locked away in Mr. Cope’s safe. So the question we then had to ask was, why was Mr. Cope so interested in it? Was that all of a piece with his professed interest in the records held at St. Salyve’s church? Now I think we are safe in the assumption that Rex Biding is Laura’s father. So then what about this marriage? Who was Alexandra Thyme? Was Lady Lawdown trying to hide the fact that she was never married to Laura’s father, and that Laura is therefore illegitimate?”

Lady Lawdown sprang to her feet, provoked into fury. “Inspector, how dare you? That is the most insulting …”

Andy Constable held up his hand to stem the flow. “Please allow me to finish, your ladyship. As I was about to say …” He waited until Sandra Lawdown had resumed her seat. “We of course had the answer to that question almost before it had been asked. Because according to the vicar, when Mr. Cope and Lady Lawdown met in the church porch, Mr. Cope called her ‘Alex’. Which might be thought strange, since her name is Sandra. But of course, it isn’t strange at all, is it, my lady? It’s simply that Alex is short for Alexandra, just as Sandra is short for Alexandra.”

“Of course it is,” said Lady Lawdown with more assurance. “I just happen to prefer the name Sandra. And I’m sure Horace used the name Alex purely to provoke me, although I have no idea why. He always had a spiteful streak. So I really cannot imagine what relevance all this has, inspector. What on earth does it matter what I call myself?”

“I think it matters a great deal, my lady,” replied Constable. “You see, I haven’t told you what else the letter said. Yes, there was a mention of Rex Biding’s marriage. But what Horace Cope had asked for, and failed to get, was a copy of Rex Biding’s death certificate. So why would he be interested in that? And why would the Family Records Office not be able to trace it? Their archives are pretty comprehensive, I understand. So the only thought that occurs to me is, perhaps this document didn’t come to light because it doesn’t exist. And perhaps Mr. Biding, whatever his daughter and other people may have been told, did not die when Laura was very young. Perhaps he did not die at all. So could it be that Lady Lawdown, J.P., is seeking to conceal the fact, not of illegitimacy, but of bigamy?”

Laura had been listening to the unfolding revelations with mounting incredulity. “Mummy … I don’t understand. Is the inspector telling us that daddy isn’t dead? But you always told me that he died when I was a child.” And in response to her mother’s continuing silence, “Mummy, tell me!”

“Oh darling, I wish I could,” answered Sandra Lawdown in a broken voice. “Your father …” She turned to Andy Constable. “You’re right of course, inspector. Rex was Laura’s father. I suppose we were just too young. Laura was born a year after we married, and when she was two, I discovered that Rex was involved with another woman. In fact, several other women. I confronted him – he didn’t deny it. So I told him to leave, and he did. I never saw him again.”

“And did you not get a divorce?” asked Constable.

“No, inspector, I did not,” said Lady Lawdown, recovering a little of her spirit. “I refused to undergo the embarrassment. And I wanted to protect Laura as best I could. So I just told her that her daddy had gone away. Later on, when she was old enough to ask questions, I told her that he had died. You may think that was cruel, but I thought it was no more cruel than letting her find out the sort of man her father really was. So the story was that Rex was dead. And as the years went by, I suppose I even came to believe it myself. And then I met Peter.”

“That’s Lord Lawdown?”

“Yes. And he was charming, and kind … so when he asked me to marry him, what could I do? I wanted the best for Laura, so I put my past life behind me.”

“So Rex Biding is still alive then?” said Constable.

“I really have no idea, inspector.” She smiled through emerging tears and rose to her feet. “And look at everything I have. Look at this house. My title, my position – everything is built on a lie.”

“And Horace Cope found out. How?”

Sandra Lawdown laughed bitterly. “He was a clairvoyant, inspector. Perhaps he divined it. How am I supposed to know? But he knew, and he let me know that he knew. Oh, nothing was ever said directly – he was too sly for that. And I don’t know what he hoped to gain by the knowledge. But if you ask me if I’m sorry that he’s dead, no, I’m not. I’m only sorry that the horrible truth didn’t die with him. I would have given anything to spare my friends the knowledge that I’m a liar and a fraud. But I am not a murderer.”

“And if that is the case, your ladyship, then there would probably be no need for the police to intrude further into your private affairs. Officially, that is. It may come as a surprise to some people, but we are sometimes capable of letting sleeping dogs lie, you know. So perhaps the matter of your past actions, and what you intend to do about them, is more a matter for your conscience than this investigation.”

Seymour Cummings walked over to Sandra Lawdown and wrapped his arms around her in a wordless hug, as Helen Highwater dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief from her sleeve.

“Sandra,” said Helen, “Don’t worry that any of this will make a difference to us. We love you for the person we know you are.”

“Thank you, Helen,” said Lady Lawdown. “You are a true friend.”

“Indeed, Miss Highwater,” said Constable. “Some might say that you appear to be Lady Lawdown’s best friend. And despite that friendship, or perhaps even because of it, you have had your own troubles with Horace Cope, haven’t you?”

“In what way, troubles, inspector? I don’t know what you mean?”

“But you’ve told us about them yourself, Miss Highwater. Don’t you remember? Of course, you’re a very successful author, and your books have made you very wealthy, haven’t they?”

Helen reddened slightly. “I won’t deny it, inspector, I’ve been very lucky, and I must admit that I’m really quite comfortably off. But I don’t see what that has to do with Horace’s death.”

“Ah, but the thing about wealth, Miss Highwater, is that it attracts all sorts of vultures. And it seems to me that Horace Cope might very well have been one of those vultures. Perhaps picking over the corpses.”

“Corpses? What corpses?” retorted Helen sharply.

“Forgive me, Miss Highwater,” said Constable. “Perhaps that wasn’t a particularly tasteful expression. I was referring to your ‘Carrie Otter’ novels. Because Horace Cope had been none too complimentary about them in his newspaper column, had he? But I dare say you hoped for better in his review of your new book. On the other hand, of course, there is the fear that Mr. Cope might have used his column to give you more bad publicity. We can’t tell, can we. So I imagine that it may be something of a mixed blessing that his final review will never appear in print. Will it?”

“No, inspector,” agreed Helen quietly, “it won’t.”

Andy Constable steepled his fingers and tapped them together. “Mind you,” he said, “there’s one thing that I can’t quite resolve. It’s this question of Mr. Cope’s possession of a copy of your final ‘Carrie Otter’ book. You told us that you gave it to him. Amelia Cook heard him decline your offer. And she also heard him make various other odd remarks which didn’t sound particularly friendly.”

Helen’s tone grew waspish. “I’m sorry, inspector, but I’m becoming a little tired of people being accused of goodness-knows-what on the basis of Amelia Cook’s bits and pieces of tittle-tattle. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but I’m surprised that you pay so much attention to things half-heard from a woman who was probably only paying half-attention.”

“Really, Miss Highwater? Well, whatever else may be true about Miss Cook, I think it is generally agreed that her cooking was usually very well appreciated. So shall we say that she was paying close enough attention to notice that, whatever it was that Horace Cope said, it was enough to put you off your food.”

Chapter 14

Robin Allday stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Inspector, if I may interrupt, I think you are beginning to adopt something of a hectoring tone, and I’m not sure to what end. You seem to be intent on accusing each of us in turn of having some sort of motive for killing Horace.”

“That is exactly my point, Mr. Allday,” answered Constable. “When I was a young sergeant, my old inspector said to me, ‘Know the man
and you know his murderer’. So we’ve been looking at the character of Horace Cope, and we find that he loved to uncover people’s secrets. And those secrets are what tell us the motives for murder. And I have to remind you that each and every person in this room had a motive to kill Horace Cope.”

“Are you serious, inspector?”

“Sadly I am, sir. In fact, I think I would say that in your case, the motive is so obvious that if it weren’t so serious, it would be laughable.”

“I’m glad I’m providing you with some amusement, gentlemen,” said Robin in acid tones. “So perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly what you’re talking about.”

“Very well, sir. Since you’re so determined. Horace Cope was blackmailing you, wasn’t he?”

A murmur of astonishment ran around the room.

“Sorry to put it in such shocking terms, Mr. Allday, but I shouldn’t have thought that such an action on Mr. Cope’s part would come as much of a surprise to anyone here. Now I have a bit of a problem with you, Mr. Allday, because I haven’t a single piece of concrete evidence to go on. All I’ve got is hearsay.” And as Robin seemed about to interrupt, “Quite a lot of hearsay, sir. Now you were about to put through a property transaction for Mr. Cope, weren’t you? But some of the details look as if they may have involved sailing a bit close to the wind. You admitted as much to us yourself. But as you also pointed out, that particular deal isn’t going to be taking place, so you don’t seem to have a problem there. On the face of it. But why would you put yourself in such a position? Well, according to a conversation we’ve been told about by Gideon Porter, you’d done something of the sort before.”

“You cannot know that, inspector,” retorted Robin, “and if you haven’t any evidence, I think you should be very careful about what you say in front of witnesses.”